BioMom is out for the evening (some moms at the SYO's school are hosting a fundraiser: Mommy's Margarita Night), and the SYO and Mr. Big are snoozing it up in the other room.
I was just poking around some of the GLBT Blogger Day's blogs and ran across this story over at Two Real Mama's.
I always forget about the healing nature of commiserating (and that reminds me to go out and get the book Confessions of the Other Mother for more of the same).
Two related notes.
The first relates to the event at which BioMom is currently enjoying. Due to some unexplained tipping point, we became overwhelmed with the following question:
We see that you only bought one ticket to the event. WHICH ONE OF YOU WILL ATTEND???
It was actually very sweet and all in good nature. We wondered if people were just curious. Or trying to be politically correct. BioMom wondered if it was an ice-breaking conversation for people who didn't know each other: Which 'mom' gets to go to the mom's night out???
Mr. Big and I went to an end-of-school picnic for the SYO today and we were confronted again by the hosts of the event: Why don't you come too???
I insisted that BioMom enjoys her time away.
I tried to explain that we do a sort of Mom/Dad thing. . . That it wasn't my sort of event anyway.
I don't think they really got it.
The second related note has to do with the questions people are willing to ask. I guess this is more related to the Two Real Moms post. The other day I was at the local corner grocer. The little store that has four isles; just enough room for the preservative-laden essentials.
Anyway, the guy at the register with whom I am not on a first-name basis but have seen on many occasions (the SYO, when she was a FYO used to go in and get bubble gum on a regular basis after preschool) notices the new baby (he's hard to miss):
You had another one?
Awkwardly: Um. Are you the lesbian?
He actually said "the". I'm not making that up.
Um. Yeah. I am.
So, um. Can I ask you a personal question?
You can imagine the rest of the conversation.
Its the same sort of thing. I got no creepy vibe from this guy. Just curiosity. It is not offensive in the least. Just a bit awkward and strange. Like those people that ask: Is he yours? A question that often catches in my throat. Yes! Um. No. Um. Sort of. Um, well, to the extent that anyone is anyone else's. . . ?
The best was the interaction I had with the grocery ladies (a different grocery store than the one mentioned above). Background: the first time I brought in Mr. Big, they asked if he was mine and then I had to go into the explanation about why they hadn't seen me pregnant in the weeks leading up to the obvious recent birth (BioMom rarely does the grocery shopping, and we even more rarely go together). Anyway, the other day I went in with Mr. Big strapped into the Bjorn. The gals went on and on about how much he looks like me.